Season Unending
by Dakatmew
Summary: An AU to the quest, Season Unending. At the peace talks, the Stormcloaks make a surprising offer of surrender. With one condition, of course. How will the Dragonborn deal with this new installment in her already-chaotic life? Spoilers for the Main Quest line, references, and hints to various other major quest lines as well.


I growl at the prospect of having to talk to Ulfric. I positively detest the man. It isn't his principles- well, okay, it is, but the reason I hate him as much as I do, is the man is a damn racist. It's unbelievable what he thinks he can get away with. The whole point of this war is that Skyrim is either free or still part of the failing Empire that the Thalmor are so desperate to not have another war with.

They act like they don't care if they do, but they know that their position in the Empire is shaky as it is in the first place, and it is unlikely that this will ever change. Their big-headedness is nothing compared to most Nords. I'm not saying that they're all bad, but honestly, give other races a chance. If you don't, they'll come after you eventually.

Still unhappy at the prospect of talking to Ulfric, I swing my way north, to Solitude, although I know I am only delaying the inevitable.

"General Tullius."

"Yes?"

The General, as astute as he was, knows that I have important news, and actually stops looking at that damn map for a few moments.

"I need you to go up to High Hrothgar to negotiate a peace treaty between you and the rebels."

"Why?"

"So I can kill Alduin and save all your asses, that's why."

Legate Rikke looks at me, slight amusement in her eyes. We know each other from previous service. I'm not nearly as old as her, or even Tullius, but I have done my time in the Imperial Army, as is befitting my family.

"Legate, that is not the way you speak to your superior officer."

"And, General, that is not how you speak to a person who has the power to stop this war and the immediate threat posed by Alduin to Tamriel, in case you hadn't noticed."

Tulius took in a breath, and I waited to hear his response.

"Alright. I'll be there. With Elisif, Balgruuf and Rikke, too."

My cloak swishing behind me, I reply with a clipped, "Good," before slamming the door.

In a matter of hours, I am in Windhelm, the capitol city of the rebel cause. I stable Shadowmere, knowing that after the hard run she made getting us here, she's more than deserving of it.

I remember the first time I ever came into Windhelm. Two Nords, one a beggar, one a drunkard, were bullying a Dark Elf, a Dunmer.

That was the day I nearly killed a man with my fists, and the first battle I ever took part in, in Skyrim. For Whiterun.

A quick glance to the skies insures that no dragons are about for me to be distracted, and no disturbances as far as I can tell.

Pushing the tall doors open, I hurry inside, though it makes no difference, and the cold still chills a person to the bone.

Always glad I have my Shrouded Armor on, I am especially so now, as it blocks out the cold and covers my face, making it easier to convince Ulfric. At least he's a Nord, and he'll understand. Marginally.

Taking a deep breath and gulping, I walk swiftly to the Palace of Kings and scramble inside.

"Ah, Dragonborn. Are you here to take me up on my offer at last?"

My eyes narrow to a glare, and disapproval radiates off of my person. "No, Ulfric, I am here to deliver a message. You are needed at High Hrothgar to negotiate a peace treaty between the Imperials and you."

His casual stance showed just how little he cared about my proposal.

"And why would that be?"

"Because I need to kill Alduin and Balgruuf wants to not be able to worry that he will be attacked during the middle of capturing a dragon."

"How would that aid you in killing Alduin?"

My eyes were closed temporarily, a sigh almost escaping my lips.

"Are you coming to High Hrothgar, or not?"

"I'll meet you there, with Galmar. I suppose Tullius will be bringing some people as well?"

"Don't know, don't care. Let's just get this over with."

I could feel Ulfric's eyes on my retreating figure as I hurried out of the hall, cloak billowing out behind me in a very dramatic way, as I knew.

"Dovahkiin," he said, attracting my attention for a moment, "are you prepared to sacrifice everything for this?"

"I'm not prepared to sacrifice anything; it's my destiny. I don't have a choice in the matter."

My teeth chattering in the bitter cold of the storm that had just blown in, I stumble into the cold harsh reality of Skyrim.

"High Hrothgar, here I come." I say.

Traveling to Ivarstead is easy on Shadowmere. I leave her at the bottom of the steps, because I know that there is a troll up here, and bears. Divines, I hate bears.

Hoping that a storm won't spring up when I'm traveling, my climbing begins with a fervor that results in some loose stones tumbling down the mountainside in my rush to the top.

Just my luck, though, a storm springs up, and instead of soft snow flurries, I get a howling blizzard in my face. Even Frost Trolls won't dare to venture out in this weather.

Averting my face, I just want to get to High Hrothgar.

Clearing my throat, I Shout into the air, and within a few moments of stillness, I Shout again, clearing the skies temporarily.

Only a few steps ahead of me are Ulfric and Galmar, looking at me in wonder.

"What?" I shrug them off.

"In all my years, I never thought that a person could sneak up behind me like that. How long were you tailing us?" asks Galmar.

"Why would I tail you when I can pass you?" I shout over my shoulder to him.

A laugh escapes my lips as I run up the mountainside, encountering a few beasts along the way. I can hear them running to catch up to me, for what seems like both no reason and a lost cause.

Pressing the speed, I know they can hear my chuckle. I pause, and start sneaking.

"Why are you stopping?"

"Frost troll. Damn guy nearly killed me last time I was here; looks like we've got another one."

"How did you kill him last time?"

"Bow, arrow, fire, and sneaking. Works every time." A smirk touches my mouth as I tip my arrow with poison, and fire it into the belly of the beast, sinking it in a good four or five inches, at least.

After a couple of sneak attack arrows, the troll goes down, and I loot the corpse.

"Are you always this thorough with your kills?"

I grimace, wiping off troll blood on the snow before putting the arrows back in my quiver. "Only the ones worth looting."

I take off at a sprint, knowing that it's only a few more hundred feet or so before I reach the temple.

I take a seat at the table, not entirely sure what will happen here.

As soon as everyone is here, Ulfric demands that Elenwen is removed from the table, barely a moment after Arngeir's speech.

"Dragonborn, what do you think?"

"Elenwen, leave this sanctuary. No Thalmor of devious nature is allowed in when one is going to report everything you learn to your superiors."

A huff and she is gone. Remarkable.

Exchanges of holds were stated, and given.

Esbern halts the decision making process before the Imperials storm out.

I roll my eyes at their antics, treating them like I would a small child not getting what they want.

"There is, however, another way."

I turn to look at the Stormcloaks, and find that Ulfric is looking at me in a very strange way.

Galmar clears his throat, clearly uncomfortable with what he has to say next. "If the Dragonborn would accept, then we would surrender our rebel cause, if we could also talk to the Elves about a treaty we believe in."

"And what-exactly- would I be accepting, Galmar?"

He clears his throat again. "Marriage. To Jarl Ulfric."

To my credit, no emotion is given away, and my poker face remains as is.

The rest of the table looks at each other, clearly trying to escape the awkwardness in the air. My eyes find Ulfric's, and I do not look away.

"Really?" I say, slowly.

Ulfric nods his head, and has the decency to look slightly embarrassed, and does, in fact, look away.

A moment more of silence passes. "I need some time to think about this. Let me step outside for a minute."

They all nod, not sure if they should even try to stop me.

My footsteps make no sound, as ever, and I walk wordlessly into the courtyard.

I Shout as much as I knew how.

I return soon, and know already what Paarthurnax would say. My heart influences my choices too much, and the work of my destiny did nothing to help me.

I sit back down with grace, poise, and resolution.

"Well, Dragonborn, what is your answer? The talks of surrender are on the table."

I silence Arngeir with a look, and he looks at me sorrowfully.

"Ulfric, if you surrender immediately, and agree to peaceably remain part of the Empire and peacefully have treaty reorganization talks with the Thalmor, then yes, I accept your proposal."

"Is that your final answer, Dragonborn?"

"For the good of the people, yes. However, the ceremony must wait until Alduin is dead, or your peace talks here may have done nothing but stall you in your path of bloodshed."

"That is true, Dragonborn. Meeting is adjourned." Arngeir says.

"Legate, you did some truly courageous things out there. Good work." Says Tulius, handing me an Elven sword with an enchantment.

I turn to leave, pulling on my cloak again, but Ulfric says loudly, "Well, Dragonborn, now that we're betrothed, how about a kiss?"

A scathing look, and I am gone again.

In Dragonsreach, with the peace talks settled, I summon Odahviing, and almost effortlessly catch him in the ages-old trap.

Eventually, the honor-bound dragon agrees to take me to Skuldafn, Alduin's keep in the sky.

I just hope that I stop Alduin in time.

I get back to Skyrim, at the Throat of the World, where dragons circled above my head and around the mountain, repeating the obituary for Alduin.

He will eventually come again, I believe, and he will not be able to be stopped. But, hopefully, I will never have to see that day, and I truthfully hope that it will never come.

I have my own life to worry about.

Like why I need to go to Riften, right now.

The freedom of the world has been gained, again, but my freedom has been lost, in exchange.

A few days later, I stumble into the Palace of Kings, and charge up to Ulfric's quarters. It's 11 PM, and I just got in. I am exhausted, hungry, and beyond tired, but I still have things to do.

I don't quite feel like facing Ulfric just yet, though, so I help myself to some of his mead and food. Like he'll miss it with that entire banquet hall sitting there.

Having somewhat satisfied my hunger, I go up to Ulfric, and shake him a bit.

"Ulfric….. Ulfric….. ULFRIC."

He murmurs in his sleep, resulting in aggravating me more and kicking his bed in another attempt to wake him.

"ULFRIC WAKE UP NOW."

He jerks awake, and looks almost scared when he sees me standing there.

"I thought you'd like to know that you should leave for Riften now. Bring whoever you want to the ceremony."

The sheet falls away somewhat, and I see he sleeps with no shirt on, in just his loincloth.

"You might want to wear something nice."

I turn and leave, knowing that I probably riled up the guards and more than startled the remaining people.

"Are you going to?"

I halt, and glance over my shoulder to see Ulfric leaning at his door, indeed wearing nothing but his loincloth.

"Going to what?"

"Wear something other than that armor that you never seem to part with."

"I could dress up in something I consider festive. You might prefer me like this."

"By all means, wear whatever."

"Oh, then I'll wear the Emperor's dead cousin's wedding clothes. You'd really like to see that. I haven't washed the blood out of them yet."

His eyes grow wide, and I can tell I've surprised him.

"I'll see you in Riften."

My journey to Riften is tolerable, as I don't even try to walk or ride, feeling lazy enough to take the carriage. I warn the driver that if he even thinks we've got trouble, he should wake me. Hopefully he won't, but who knows.

Maybe I can wake up and find out this is all a dream.

I return to Riften, the home of the Thieves Guild, and drop off some stuff before I sense Ulfric's Thu'um approaching. Yes, I can do that, but not a lot of other people can, it seems. Although, I suppose that's hardly a fair comparison.

Sighing heavily, I approach the Temple of Mara and attempt to come to terms with this whole business.

Opening the doors leads to a shower of congratulations, bestowed upon me by friends, followers, and everything in between, it seems.

"Are you going to be wed in those clothes?"

"I brought something along with me, if there's a place to change."

"Right this way," Dinya Balu brings me to her room, the only place with a bit of privacy. "Change in here. I can't believe it! Thank you for all the help with those pamphlets; may Lady Mara guide you in your quest for eternal love and happiness."

She leaves quickly, to let me change, and I lock the door swiftly, and step out of my armor and into the robes. He said something other than my armor; it's something other than my armor.

I exit the room, and put on my game face, knowing that this was not going to be fun, in any way.

Surprisingly, he had dressed up a bit. Fine clothes and a new braid signified something, I'm sure.

I creep along the edge of the crowd, and find the aisle clear for me. In the front rows are Rikke, Galmar, Elisif, and several other Jarls. A bit farther back are Companions, and a few people from the College. Farther back, I see Babette, hiding and acting like she's just here for the show of something magical, and bares her fangs at me in a sign of support. Delvin and Brynjolf are at the back, shooting me looks that say that they really like how I look in these clothes.

The priest looks up and finds me waiting, and beckons me forward.

Ulfric turns around, seeing the clothes I'm wearing, and raises his eyebrow.

I walk swiftly up the aisle, not wanting to be like a show horse. "A jester costume? If I knew this was a joke to you, I'd never have asked." Ulfric whispered to me.

"It's not a joke; it's a symbolism of a dear friend. I hoped to see him here. I suppose we can't all slip away like eternal 10-year-old vampires, or Jarls who kill their Kings, now, can we?" I whisper back, scathing. I had, actually, kept on my hood, still covering half of my face.

"…do you take this woman, now and forever, to be your wife?" said the priest.

"I do, now and forever." Ulfric replied.

"And do you take this man, now and forever, to be your husband?"

"I do, now and forever." I said, almost hearing my freedom become enchained by the statement.

"Then I pronounce you husband and wife." The priest failed to see the miserable look in my eyes, but I'm not entirely sure it was there.

Ulfric leans in to kiss me, as is customary, and I let the kiss happen, trying to not respond in anything but what would be an act.

We're instantly surrounded by well-wishers, and comments are made upon my outfit, as I see the shadier of my contacts, and perhaps most important, slip away, into the night.

I manage to smile my way through most of the questions and comments, becoming increasingly exhausted until I tire enough to request that we leave.

"Of course. Friends, we must go now. Please enjoy the hospitality provided by the city of Riften at the Bee and Barb!"

A cheer goes up through the crowd, and he laughs loudly, as we exit the building behind a crowd of people.

"Where to now, wife?" he asks me.

"Honeyside. I know the back way there."

"Why not the Keep?"

"And be barraged by well-wishing guards and suck-ups? No thank you, I've had enough for one night." I leave his grasp and leap over the left side, dropping into a crouch to avoid detection.

He follows suit, right behind me.

Within a few minutes, we're at my house, Honeyside. My Housecarl, Iona, is out celebrating with the rest of the town.

Locking the door behind us, I turn to my now husband, and raise my eyebrow.

"What?"

"Would you move?" I ask through gritted teeth.

"Why?"

"That's where I store my loot in this house. I can't sell all of it, you know."

He frowns. "Why not?"

I crouch down, opening the cupboard doors that are already quite full. "Because I have such a good speech skill that they can't keep up with the values, and end up with no coin at all."

"Really?" he asks, still staring at me, or, rather, specific parts of me. This jester costume was perhaps not the best choice. Oh well, at least Babette will tell Cicero that I love him, the dear Keeper will be ecstatic.

"Yes. I have a silver tongue in more ways than one."

"What?" I look back at Ulfric and see his brow is furrowed in a questioning look.

"You've never seen the lower half of my face, have you?"

"No, Dragonborn, every time I've seen you, you've had that damn hood and mask on."

I chuckle. "There's a reason I keep it on; people used to mock me for it. I was apprenticed to a blacksmith when I was a child, and one day, he was making jewelry. You know, smelting down silver ingots and making necklaces and such, and he let me watch. Well, me being the weird little child I was, I dipped my tongue in the melted silver to see what it would taste like."

"You tried to taste silver?"

"When I was seven winters, yes. It turned out quite disastrous for me, and I ended up having to hold my mouth shut before I told the smith."

"Why did you think that you could taste silver?"

I rise from my crouch; sure that everything I can fit in there is in there before slamming my pack on the table. "I could taste a lot of things before. I tasted the wind once, and I thought that everything had a taste after that. It made for some interesting taunts, though."

"And now, I can't taste anything, permanently."

"Really?"

"Yes, that's why I almost never eat anything. The sight of food makes me sick to my stomach. It's really more like every time that I look at it, I'm reminded of the event, and just can't take more than a couple bites."

"That's not what you did in my quarters."

"That was because it was bread and I had nothing else to eat, I was starving from Skuldafn and traveling to Sovngarde, and getting down from the Throat of the World, and so on."

Ulfric halts, eyes growing wide again. "You've been to Sovngarde?"

I nod. "Yes, and it wasn't exactly what I expected. You Nords need to place a bit more detail in your stories about how there's a dragon bone bridge, and only one hall, no sun, and it's absolutely gorgeous. There are waterfalls, mountains, and it looks like how you can imagine Skyrim to be a long, long time ago."

Ulfric pauses. "You Nords?"

I laugh. "You don't even know what race I am, and we're already married."

"Well, you're not a beast, and you're not an elf, so I assumed…"

I laugh again. "No, I'm a Nord, but I'm also a High Elf. My mom was a member of the Thalmor, and she fell in love with a Nord on the opposite side of the Great War. They met one night, in the middle of the war, and the next day, he died."

"What was his name?"

"I believe it was something along the lines of Starn Crag-Walker, or something. Maybe he fled the war, though. He always talked about peace, according to Mom."

"Who's your mother?"

I smile. "Elenwen."

"What?"

We both laugh. "I know, I know, it's hard to believe, but she is my mother. I remember the look on her face when I showed up at her doorstep, crashing the party! That was to die for."

We laugh again.

He speaks again as our laughter dies away. "You know, Dragonborn, I don't even know your name."

I smile. "I have many names, Ulfric. Pick one."

"I prefer the one that you like the best."

I laugh. "The one that I like the best is the one that you probably hate the most- we could have done the job for you."

"What job?"

I laugh again. "Not telling; my armor should be enough of a hint already."

He glances over my body in a way that makes my skin hot, glad as always, that I have the mask.

"Well, then, what is your name?"

"Korina Silver-Tongue," I say. It's been a long time since I've said that out loud, I've almost forgotten it.

"Korina is a lovely name."

"For a Nord, I take it."

I stand up, letting out a sigh. "I should really catch up on my sleep."

Walking a few steps away, Ulfric coughs.

"Shouldn't we, you know, consummate the union?"

"I have a bed downstairs that belongs to my Housecarl, who's not here, if you want to nurse your injuries in that."

"What injuries?"

"The injuries you'll get if you try."

He chuckles. "I doubt you'd hurt your husband."

"I've done a lot of things that people doubted I would do." As I say that, I pull off my hood, gauntlets, and boots in smooth, practiced motions. Ulfric isn't watching, at least, I don't think he is. My regular armor, the hood, gloves and boots go on the end table, although my armor set is already there.

I pull off the cuirass of the jester costume, and hear Ulfric choke a bit on his mead. I smirk, knowing now that he's looking.

"You know, it's not nice to stare."

"Well, I'm a big, bad Nord, so what do I know about being nice?" His boots click soundly on the floorboards, and I almost start panicking.

His hand curls over my shoulder, and I stiffen noticeably. "Relax, Korina," he whispers in my ear.

"Do you want to know why I wear that mask all the time?" I whisper.

"Why?" he asks, fingering my collarbone.

I turn around in response to his question.

He gasps, and stumbles backwards. The lower half of my face is absolutely covered in scars, from when Alduin attacked the first time. It's not a pretty sight, and it contradicts the rest of my skin, being red and irritated most of the time. No matter how many healing spells I've cast, or how many potions I've drunk, they've never healed completely.

I tear my eyes away from the sight of him staring in horror, and I finish taking off my costume, before replacing it with my real armor, putting on the hood and mask again, gloves, and boots.

Not looking at him, I say, "I have to go take care of some things. I'll be back in a few weeks. You'll be in Windhelm, I presume, so I'll see you there, husband."

I grab my pack and weapons, and run out the door.

Honestly, if he didn't want to know about me, he shouldn't have asked.

It's a few days later, and, as promised, I'm back in Windhelm for the time being. I visit my house Hjerim, saying hello to Calder, who informs me that Ulfric stopped by earlier today, as I'm taking off my well-worn travel cloak.

"He wanted to see you, Thane. Don't know why, and he left a parcel for you. It's in your bedroom, if you want."

I thank him, and travel upstairs, dropping my pack carelessly on the ground as I collapse almost completely exhausted on my bed, throwing my weapons and quiver on the chair close by. I kick off my boots, and pull off my gloves, setting both aside with careful fondness.

I remember the package, and look at it briefly, before opening it quickly.

Inside is a set of daggers, glass. They're nice, of course, but I find better things in the Ancient Nord Tombs.

I sigh and toss them aside, onto another chair, before burrowing under the covers and falling asleep.

When I wake, it is 2 AM, and I know I can sneak in the Palace now. I put on my gear, as well rested as I can be, and walk silently out of the house, intent on leaving as soon as I talked to Ulfric about whatever he wanted to talk about.

Sneaking into the Palace is easy, as this is just when the guards are at their most tired, and the real challenge is the doors. They creak a bit, but if you slip in silently, then the guards in the hall won't notice either.

Amazed again at my own abilities, I creep along the rooms, until I push open the door that I know is Ulfric's, to find it's locked, with a Master.

Pfft. And he acts like he knows me.

I pick the lock, which frustrates me for a bit, and I squeeze in.

Ulfric is sleeping, as I expected, but after last time, this seems like it needs to be more of a challenge.

What can I do to him that won't get me in complete trouble?

I, first, cast Detect Life to see if anyone else is in here, and to my surprise, no one is besides us. I creep up behind Ulfric, and pickpocket his clothes off, which he seems to wear on and off to bed.

Formulating an idea, I disrobe without a sound and put on his robes, then pour myself a goblet of mead, before sitting by the fire and simply staring at him.

The fact that the bed is on a raised dais and in the center of the room does nothing to detract attention from it, and is quite possibly a hazard to health.

I suppose he's gotten cold, because I've drunk almost two entire bottles of mead before he wakes.

"I swear to Talos I wore my robes to bed."

"Hello, Ulfric." The great man spins around and looks quite startled, and only a hint of actual fear.

"Um, hi, Korina, I was expecting you yesterday, but you didn't show."

I set down the goblet. "I rarely do when you don't even set an appointment with me personally, but inform my Housecarl."

He smiles awkwardly, and shrugs. "You weren't there. Did you get the gift?"

"The daggers need sharpening."

He frowns, and curses. "I knew I should have gotten the ebony."

I raise my eyebrow. "I don't use ebony, or glass. I use Daedric, which, apparently, is very hard for normal smiths to make. I imagine only Eorlund knows how to make them, and he's very old fashioned, so he probably wouldn't even want to do anything that has to do with Daedra."

"Oh."

"Indeed." I rise from my seat. "What did you want to talk to me about?"

"What?"

"My Housecarl said you wanted to see me."

"Well, yes, and no."

I roll my eyes. "You can't have two answers to the same question; pick one."

"Then yes, I do want to see you."

I fold my arms across my chest. "For what purpose?"

He smiles. "No other purpose than seeing my wife, I suppose."

I very nearly sigh, but hold it in for a moment, knowing that countering that is not the smartest thing to do when the treaty reevaluation talks are about to happen. Oh, right, they were about to happen.

He pauses, and then points to my robes. "Are you- are you wearing my robes?"

"What do you think, Ulfric? I couldn't find anything else suitable to have an audience with a Jarl in here."

"I am not a Jarl to you; I'm your husband."

I remain silent.

"You're still not used to that?"

"Obviously." I say it with a sassy tone, intent on getting him riled up, for some unknown purpose of mine.

He chuckles. "Well, we're going to be called much worse, you can believe me. And be grateful it was me, and not Galmar, or he'd have had you in bed the moment you both walked in the door to your house in Riften."

I scoff. "I doubt it; I am the Dovahkiin, remember?"

"Oh, no, Galmar would have had his way with you in a thrice. Most men are quite attracted to the mysterious Dovahkiin. You aren't undesirable."

"Until they see my face, it seems."

Ulfric winces at that comment, and replies crisply. "I was unprepared for it, that is all."

"Unprepared?" I laugh. "How can a person be prepared for it? I never speak of it, and that portion of my face never sees the light of day."

"Oh, like the rest of your skin. I've seen you half naked, remember, girly, and you are as pale as moonlight on snow under your armor."

We're closer to each other now, closer than we've ever been, and I think Ulfric realizes this, as his eyes drift lower from my face to where my lips would be.

I whirl away abruptly from him, and sink back in the chair by the fire, staring into its flames.

"You don't have to be so defensive all the time, Korina. There are plenty out there who would hurt you, but I won't ever."

My eyes flicker over to him on the opposite chair. He's leaning forward, staring at me.

"You don't have to be afraid with me."

I blink slowly, and turn to face him. "I'm not afraid of you, Ulfric, and I'm not afraid of any man, woman, child, or beast this world has to offer. But Ulfric, if I may ask a request of you?"

He nods, and smiles. "Anything."

"Put on some pants."

His eyes widen, and he looks downward, reminding himself he's in a loincloth.

Sheepishly he grins, and stands up. "But, milady, we were growing so close."

I'm already pulling over his robes and handing them to him, knowing full well that his eyes will run over my body in a matter of seconds. In some place of my brain, I'm okay with that.

As I hand him his pants, I catch him staring at my nether regions.

"Something you like, Ulfric?"

His eyes flicker up to my face, and back down again. "Yes. Yes there is."

I grab my armor and put it on in a hurry, ever so grateful for my mask.

After pulling on the comfortable piece of leather fitted perfectly together, I speak again. "I'll see you tomorrow, for the treaty reevaluation meeting. Or, rather, today."

I storm out of the room in a hurry, retreating before I make a bigger fool of myself.

I'm in the meeting, and beginning to regret not getting more sleep, or a potion of stamina. Divines, these meetings are boring.

"Now, we are unwilling to budge on the Talos issue."

"That's the only thing we want. We're willing to remain a part of the Empire only if we can worship the Nine Divines, not the Eight!" says Ulfric, spitting it out at the Thalmor across the round table.

"Dragonborn. What do you think of all this?"

Why am I always the deciding faction?

"People should be able to choose who they want to worship on their own; we need no way of constriction about it." I respond, hoping that that decides it for them.

The Thalmor scowl, and Tullius looks pointedly at me. I shake my head slightly.

"Well, what if we drew it up so people in Skyrim specifically could do it?"

I tilt my head back, finding the ceiling more interesting than this conversation.

"If you do that, everyone in the Empire will be angered, and prejudices will not stop, and the Nine Divines and the Eight will now not be coherent, and bloodshed will become commonplace for those that disagree with another's views." I say, hoping that this truly decides it for them.

"Just grant the people of the Empire free worship, withdraw your influence from here as much as possible, except for a handful of carefully-maintained embassies, and leave us be. Otherwise you'll have another war on your hands, and I doubt that the allies that you have will be willing to work together after they themselves fought each other. And, would you really be willing to go up against the Dragonborn?" says Ulfric.

This halts the Thalmor, and they clear their throats awkwardly.

I look at Ulfric with a whole new perspective. A diplomat is something I never thought that he'd be with the Thalmor.

With the Thalmor backed into a corner, they agree, not wanting to have to face the jurisdiction of their superiors if they came back with news that Skyrim declared war on the Thalmor, again.

A smirk settles into place on Ulfric's lips, and he looks smugly at them, and then at me in hope, catching my eyes on him.

He raises his eyebrow at me, and I flick my eyes away. Questions can wait until later.

"Wait, the Harbinger of the Companions isn't here. As is Ancano and the Arch-Mage from the College. I demand that they are here to help with these peace-talks!" roared a Thalmor representative.

I stare at the man, before standing up and walking out.

"I am done with this little elf and his ignorance and stupidity." I say as I walk out of the door to surprised faces all around the room.

I run to Hjerim, and give Calder a hundred gold to spend at the Candlehearth Inn for the night. I want to be alone.

I slam my way to my room, flinging open the dresser and pulling myself out of these stuffy state clothes they forced me to wear.

I consider wearing nothing about my house, but figure that they might come in looking for me, so I get out my Shrouded Robes and pull them over my head, taking off everything else.

It feels good to be free like this. It's a peculiar feeling; since it so rarely comes to me.

I spend the next few hours working in my hidden laboratory, making potions and enchanting items to see if I could learn anything new.

A few hours in, I hear the door open and slam again, as if the person has recently been aggravated.

I hear Ulfric's voice call for me. "Korina!"

I don't bother responding, simply cleaning up and walking out of the laboratory before shutting it behind me.

"Down here, Ulfric." I say, as he's gone upstairs.

He follows my voice. "How did I miss you?"

I shrug, not really caring if he knew or not about the laboratory I kept.

"You're not wearing your usual things."

I look up at him from the stairs, and find he's staring at me in a way I haven't seen before.

"You look beautiful like that."

My eyebrow rises up my face, and I answer sarcastically, "So I should just go out adventuring like this, because it'll make the bandits and draugr I fight drop dead with lust?"

He blushes, and I realize I hit it spot on.

"How did the meeting go?"

"After you left, it was tense. The Thalmor sent a novice diplomat, which he finally revealed, and we sent him back with our demands. He'll be back soon, I should think."

"I am not sitting through another round of demands no matter who the hell thinks I should, in any of my positions. I refuse." I say exasperatedly, more than glad it's over with, for now.

"What if the Jarl of Windhelm gave you that order?" he asks, looking me up and down.

"Well, I would tell him over a candlelit dinner that I refuse to obey his order, which is stupid by the way, and then I suppose he'd have to punish me for disobeying a direct order from the Jarl, but I'd argue that it was a request, so then he would get very confused by the end of dinner and quite possibly do something that he regrets." I say as I walk up to Ulfric, dropping my voice to a whisper as I stand as close as I can to him. Something about this man is intoxicating, in both a good and a bad way.

"Well then. We'll have to make arrangements for that to happen."

"I suppose so." I reply, neither of us breaking eye contact with the other.

"I'll go start the meal then. What would you like?" he whispers.

"Anything. I can't taste, remember?"

We stand here for a minute, neither of us moving, until he kisses me suddenly, full-on the mouth, and I'm so surprised that I don't do anything to stop it, but, in fact, kiss back.

We break apart, panting, and he mumbles, "I'll go start the meal then," before turning and walking down the stairs stiffly.

I turn to my bedroom, and look for the most provocative outfit I can find, just to mess with his head.

Pulling out a gift that the King in Rags gave me, I smirk as I put it on, changing out of my robes and just wearing the armor.

Oh, this will definitely surprise him.

"Korina, your candlelit dinner is almost ready."

I descend the stairs silently, and make sure the door is locked before coming up behind Ulfric and giving him a hug as he stands there, cooking.

"Hello, Jarl. How can I help you today?"

"Would you be present at the next treaty meeting between us and the Thalmor?"

"I have no purpose there," I say, withdrawing my hands and slinking away.

He almost turns around, but a flame appears, almost burning whatever he was making.

In a minute, he comes into the dining room, carrying trays of aroma-laden food, and the table is elaborately laid out.

"Here you are Dragonborn, your candlelit dinner awaits." He says without looking up at me. "Shall I pull out your seat for you, milady?"

"I do believe you shall." I say cordially, and he comes around to pull out my chair. I stand close to him, and he then notices that I seem to be wearing nothing.

His eyes grow larger, and I watch him walk over to the other side of the table stiffly, again.

"I didn't know what you prefer, so I made something simple."

"No Potage le Manifique, I suppose?" I ask, surprised.

"No, I'm afraid that is beyond my skill. Why, is it your favorite?" he asks, eyebrow risen.

I shake my head. "It's a little joke for me, I suppose. There's a reason that the new Penitus Oculatus commander was glaring at me the entire time."

"Do I get to know why?"

"Perhaps one day, little bear. You still have a lot to learn about me before I go that far." I say, raising my goblet to my lips. I hear Ulfric's sudden intake of breath, and smirk into the cup before setting it down again.

He looks rather uncomfortable, and he loads my plate and his for something to do, being diligent about the wine levels in our cups.

The food on our plates is long cold, and we were on other topics before realizing it was almost midnight.

"And we haven't even discussed what we meant to. Huh." I say, quietly pondering how I could have ever spent so much time with a man I once despised.

"Perhaps we could go back to the topic that started this whole thing, Dragonborn." Ulfric says.

"Perhaps indeed. Then you start it off."

"I already did, remember?"

"Yes, yes you did. Well, then, Jarl Ulfric, I refuse to carry out your request."

"It isn't a request, it's an order."

"I disagree."

"I disagree that you disagree with the fact that it's an order."

"How dare you, sir, for you insult the honor of my person. I have a right to disobey any request that the Jarls of Skyrim give me. I can do that to the Emperor if I wanted to."

"What if I was the Emperor? Right now?"

"But you're not."

"But if I was."

"Well, then, sir pretend Emperor, you have been very courteous to me when it is clear that you truthfully just want to get in my pants, which, as you can see, are not on me right now."

Ulfric snorts into his cup. "I didn't know that you were wearing pants."

"I'm not. This is Forsworn armor. See? No pants." I stand up to model for him, feeling playful, and Ulfric watches, his eyes growing wide again, and he lets out a groan.

"Aww, does the little bear need some help?" I say teasingly.

Ulfric stands up, and grabs me, forcing me onto the table, shoving the food away. "I must punish you now, Dragonborn, for disobeying an order from a Jarl."

I lean my head closer to his. "And what is my punishment, exactly, Jarl Ulfric, the Jarl I have most strongly wronged?"


End file.
